


we don’t have to fall in love (we can just have fun)

by zozo



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zozo/pseuds/zozo
Summary: Villanelle buys herself a birthday present. Eve gives it to her.





	we don’t have to fall in love (we can just have fun)

When Eve gets back to the hotel room, Villanelle is nowhere to be seen, but there’s a gift-wrapped box on the desk. Eve examines the package warily: it’s not ticking, but there’s no tag or inscription or anything suggesting its origin, either. It’s square on top, and about three times as tall as it wide. Eve pokes it. It’s not light, but it wobbles slightly, so it’s not that heavy either.

Eve is about to snap a photo and text it to Villanelle with a “WTF?” when the bathroom door opens and Villanelle herself steps out wearing a sleek silk robe. She looks amazing, of course/as usual. She sees Eve examining the package and smiles.

“Oh hello, Eve,” she says lightly. Too lightly. Eve is still figuring out a lot of things about Villanelle, but she can recognize her “I’m up to something” voice by now.

“Villanelle,” says Eve, striving for a similarly light-but-knowing tone. It’s not as effective. Villanelle winks at her, starts walking towards Eve and the desk.

“Eve, Eve, Eve,” she says, sticking out her lower lip in a pout so kissable Eve loses her train of thought for a second. “I cannot _believe_ you forgot my birthday.”

“Your wh—” What the hell’s the date today? Something of March. The 12th! …oh shit, it’s the 12th of March. Eve winces. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

Villanelle shakes her head slowly. “My first birthday when we are as co-workers. As _partners_ ,” and Eve scoffs, trying not to blush too obviously. “You’re going to have to make it up to me, you know.”

Eve looks again at the box, at the shape of it. She looks at Villanelle and her slinky silk robe, at the exaggeratedly innocent look on her face. Her intuition is a few steps ahead of her conscious mind, and she feels a spike of adrenaline before she fully realizes what Villanelle means.

What Villanelle wants.

“So,” says Eve, trying to keep her voice steady. “This… is for you?”

“It is my birthday present,” Villanelle purrs. “And you’re going to give it to me.” Eve turns to pick up the box, keeping Villanelle in her peripheral vision, and starts picking at the edges of the wrapping paper. Taking her sweet time.

Villanelle whimpers a little. “Um, Eve? This is not the fun part.”

Eve hums, carefully lifting up a strip of tape without tearing the paper. She locks eyes with the woman across from her. “Says you.”

The face Villanelle makes is _not_ flattering.

Eve laughs triumphantly and rips off a wide strip of paper, exposing one whole side of the box. It’s a strap-on dildo—an expensive-looking one, of course—“with comfortable, adjustable harness.” She looks up at Villanelle, who’s grinning and bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, and raises an amused eyebrow.

“Oh yes,” Villanelle says.

Eve finishes unwrapping the box. The front is clear plastic, showing the full length of the dildo—a tasteful, neutral grey—and the folded-up black harness, which does look comfortable. The back has abstract, multi-coloured artwork of two ambiguously-gendered silhouettes entwined together. It’s the classiest sex toy Eve’s ever seen.

She bites her lip and sets the crumpled wrapping paper back on the desk, turning her attention to the tape holding the box shut. Villanelle looks like ten Christmases have come at once. “S-so,” she says, voice shaky, “you’ll wear it?”

Eve looks up. “If I can get this fucking tape off. I think I might need a knife.”

Villanelle moves as fast as Eve has ever seen her move, to her side of the bed and then back to Eve. She’s holding a six-inch throwing knife out to Eve, handle-first.

Eve blinks at it for a second, then takes it and slices the tape open. She hands the knife back to Villanelle, who returns it to its original place. Eve sets the box down on the desk and walks right up to Villanelle, stopping only when they’re standing nearly chest to chest.

“I’ll wear it,” she says innocently, eyes on Villanelle’s mouth. “But what do you want me to do once I have it on?”

Villanelle licks her lips. Eve sees her swallow hard, sees her decide to play along. “I want you to fuck me, Eve. On that bed right there. I want you to fuck me until I forget my own name.”

Eve grins. “’Kay,” she says, and starts unbuttoning her blouse.

* * *

As advertised, the harness is both comfortable and adjustable, and it doesn’t take Eve long to get it sitting just right. Villanelle is lying on the bed, silk robe slightly open, showing just enough for Eve to imagine more. She’s staring at the strap-on, eyes wide and hungry.

Eve gets on the bed on her hands and knees, and starts crawling towards Villanelle, who lunges forward to meet her in a kiss. Their hands wind into each other’s hair as Villanelle falls back, Eve straddling her hips. Villanelle moans and rolls her hips like she’s the one wearing the strap-on, an image Eve carefully files away for later.

Eve breaks off the kiss and moves her lips to Villanelle’s ear, then her neck, then her collarbone, carefully pulling aside her robe and kissing each new patch of skin she exposes. Villanelle gasps and groans and Eve has to resist the urge to grind down on the other woman’s thigh. _Later,_ she thinks.

Instead, she keeps sliding down Villanelle’s body, kissing down to her breasts. Villanelle arches her back, pushing her tits into Eve’s mouth. Eve drags her teeth along Villanelle’s right nipple and revels in the sound she makes.

But soon she continues down to Villanelle’s stomach, her navel, her waist. She presses one kiss into the soft hair between Villanelle’s legs, then moves as though to carry on down to her kneecaps. Villanelle grabs a fistful of her hair.

“ _Eve,_ ” she says. “Enough teasing.”

“You’re the birthday girl,” says Eve with a smile, sliding back up. Villanelle is glistening wet, holding herself open with two fingers for Eve to see. Eve leans in and licks the full length of Villanelle’s pussy with the flat of her tongue. Villanelle throws her head back and gasps something in Russian.

Licking and sucking at Villanelle’s clit, Eve brings a finger up to slip inside her. Villanelle moans and immediately says “More.” Eve adds a second finger, and Villanelle nods rapidly, hissing an elongated “yessssss.”

Villanelle’s skin is always warm to Eve’s touch, but the inside of her pussy is positively feverish. Eve feels the dildo bobbing between her legs and wishes—for the first time in her life—that she had a flesh and blood cock of her own, so she could feel that heat for herself.

“Eve,” gasps Villanelle, “I’m ready.”

Eve kisses her way back over Villanelle’s stomach, her chest, her throat, up to her lips. Villanelle kisses her eagerly. Tasting herself in Eve’s mouth drives Villanelle wild, Eve has noticed, and it’s hot as hell.

Villanelle reaches down and lines up Eve’s cock with her entrance. “Do it,” she says, staring into Eve’s eyes. Eve thrusts forward and Villanelle gasps, and laughs, and arches her back, and kisses Eve again. Eve pulls most of the way out, then pushes in slowly, watching Villanelle’s face, gauging her reactions, adjusting her speed and angle and depth until Villanelle’s eyes are rolling back in her head and she’s screaming Eve’s name, eyes clenched shut, fists full of bedsheets.

* * *

Villanelle’s been fucked before, but mostly she prefers to do the fucking. Anna was always gentle, always tender, always in control. It made Villanelle feel vulnerable and safe at the same time, and those are two things she hates to feel. So she fucks the women she brings home, and if one wants to bring her boyfriend, she’ll fuck him too, and in the morning she says _au revoir_. She tries not to learn their names.

It’s different with Eve. Villanelle doesn’t feel safe with her, exactly—every time she thinks she might, a little voice inside her screams _She stabbed you!_ , and she wises up—and she doesn’t exactly feel vulnerable, either. She could kill Eve in six different ways using just her bare hands.

So it’s nothing like Anna. She wrestles her mind back to getting Eve’s comfortable, adjustable new cock right up against her g-spot. When she succeeds, she screams Eve’s name again. She hopes everyone in the hotel can hear.

* * *

This is incredible. Eve loves this, watching Villanelle’s face as she comes all over Eve’s cock and hips and thighs. Villanelle has hardly touched her, but Eve’s so wet she’s pretty sure she can feel it running down the inside of her leg.

“Oh my god,” Villanelle says once she’s caught her breath. “You are fucking unbelievable. I need a break. Just a little one,” she winks. Eve rolls off of her to one side, kissing her shoulder, her temple, her earlobe. Villanelle smells like sweat and expensive shampoo and sex. Eve can’t get enough of it. She feels dizzy with what they’ve just done, like a teenager.

Villanelle rolls onto her side and cups Eve’s face in her hands, kissing her deeply, winding her fingers into Eve’s hair.

“Eve,” she says. “That was very, _very_ good.” She trails a line of kisses and love bites down the side of Eve’s neck, and Eve shivers. “And since you didn’t get me a birthday _cake_ , either…” Her lips close around Eve’s left nipple, followed by her teeth, and she chuckles against Eve’s breast when Eve gasps.

“…I want dessert.” Villanelle starts unbuckling the harness at Eve’s waist. Eve looks down, eyes wide and dark, into Villanelle’s hungry smile, and she nods, and lifts her butt so Villanelle can pull the harness away.

Villanelle looks at Eve, laid out on the bed completely naked, and sighs contentedly. Then she lowers her head between Eve’s legs, spreading Eve open with her fingers. And…

Listen. Eve has had good sex before, okay? She’s been having regular orgasms since the 80’s. She’s cried out, she’s seen sparks, her toes have curled.

And yet the first thing she thinks when Villanelle’s tongue touches her is, “Oh, _this_ is what all the fuss is about.”

She can’t explain it; she can’t even compare it to—to what she’s had before. Villanelle is soft but firm between her thighs, her tongue hot and wet against Eve’s folds, one hand spreading her open, the other reaching up, grasping for Eve’s. Their fingers intertwine. It’s almost painfully intimate.

“Oksana,” Eve gasps, tightening her grip, and Villanelle moans into her, fastening her lips tightly around Eve’s clit and lashing it furiously with her tongue. Eve bucks her hips up into Villanelle’s face, whimpering, free hand on the back of Villanelle’s head, holding her steady, pulling her closer, closer, closer.

Eve’s not usually loud when she comes. She doesn’t usually _want_ to be, but this time, here—she cries out wordlessly, clutching at Villanelle’s hand, at her hair, and she doesn’t just see sparks, she sees a whole fucking sky of fireworks.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["Rebecca"](https://youtube.com/watch?v=0zy69S-bjJE) by Against Me!


End file.
